


Our Velocity

by empires



Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick is tasked with teaching the newly named Robin how to fly. Meanwhile, Jason continues to fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt: Dick freaks out after Jason’s line snaps and he falls, dick gets to him before he hits the floor, but he still gets shaken up by it_

Sweetened coffee in hand, tablet propped against his knees, Dick had prepared for an uneventful morning. He was in the middle of his off duty rotation and that meant he had time to engage in one of the Six Rs of Vigilantism: research. 

A notepad filled with Dick’s sprawling script sat at his elbow. Inside are pages of case notes to be added to his electronic records, diagrams of money, power, and information flows, and various to-do lists that help keep him on track of both his law enforcement and alter-identity activities. Organization was the foundation to a moderately healthy and successful double life. Fortunately for Dick, organization came easily. There was very little in the day that couldn’t be prepared for through planning, especially when you’ve managed to live through and see what surprises the universe had to offer.

Except for the knock on the door. Dick stood, body stretching long in relief after crouching on his chair. He wasn’t expecting company, and he definitely hadn’t buzzed anyone through the building. The knocking started again, louder and more insistent. He picked up his phone on the way to the door and keyed into the building’s security system. He frowned. Okay, maybe there are some things you didn’t prepare for, he thought, flinging the door open.

Jason Todd waited on the welcome mat of with backpack slung over his shoulder and a duffle bag in his hand. 

The last time he’d seen Jason the Wayne Christmas Gala had devolved from winter wonderland to fiery hellscape by an army of exploding gifts. After GPD took over the scene, there had been an even larger explosion on the roof between Dick and his incredibly stubborn, short-sighted, controlling part…ex-partner. Nightwing had saved the day so course the Batman decided to question his decision-making, his judgement, his ability to see “the big picture," which was honestly insulting seeing as the man gave him the brush and bit of canvas to create his own way. He had sworn of Gotham for the second time that night. And he stuck to his guns too, metaphorically. It had been four months since he’d seen so much as a road sign to the city. 

Jason had definitely grown since then reminding Dick how much he’d missed over such a short time. He stood taller now, muscle filling in the hallow leanness at his jawline and wrists, hard lines shifting beneath his gray shirt. He almost looked like a different person. That grin was still the same though, cocky with teeth white bared at Dick like a challenge.

"Dickface.” Jason’s grin widened when he caught Dick’ brow wrinkle then smooth. The kid scored the first point. 

“Jason.”

“You gonna let me in?”

Dick pretended to consider the question then shrugged. “Don’t see why I should.”

“Bruce sent me.” Jason said, stepping toward the door like that tidbit should mean something. Judging by the way Jason huffed when Dick stopped him with a hand to his chest, he didn’t realize that meaning was lost to Dick. He tried to muscle past Dick a second time and was pushed right back into the narrow hallway. 

“Come on, man!” 

Two points to Dick. He leaned against the doorframe with a little grin of his own and crossed his arms. “Why are you here, Jason?”

It was fascinating to see Jason’s mobile expressions slide to a practiced blankness. He’d finally learned how pull an effective game face. Jason’s was a near perfect imitation of the Bat, but his eyes still glittered as they rush across Dick’s face. He was planning. Dick tracked the tiny movements that wound over Jason’s body, the way the grip on his duffle bag changed, tightening, relaxing. The even inhale and shrug before he started swinging his arm a little. 

“Fine. Bruce said if I want to be the best, I had to learn from the best. But the JL are off planet, so I’m stuck with you!” Jason’s muscles coiled before he struck.

Dick sidestepped the attack. The following punch slid across his open palm. Their scuffle ended quickly with Jason spun into the outside wall cheek pressed against the crumbling paint. His chest rose and fell with each frustrated breath. 

“You should’ve just said, ‘Dick, I’m about to attack you.’ Would’ve been more of a surprise.”

“I was sloppy?”

“Just telegraphing. Like that.” Dick dodged the elbow swinging toward his temple and swept the boy’s legs out from under him. Jason’s entire body flinched before he hit the ground. “Saw that coming from a mile away. What are you doing?” He held out a hand to help Jason back to his feet.

Jason swat it away, then rolled to his fee with stiff, choppy motions. “All part of the training, right? If I get into the apartment, I get to call you sensei.” 

“Ah,” said Dick, barely resisting the urge to smack his forehead with his palm. That micromanaging sonova—“There is no training, Jay.” 

There hadn’t been an email from Bruce in the past four months let alone some coded message from Batman demanding Nightwing train Robin. Not that it wasn’t unheard of. In the past, what little training time they’d managed was highly planned. Dick would spend their sessions balancing the calculated exercises designed by Batman to mold a smart, effective, and safe partner who crusaded for justice, and Dick’s urge to teach Jason about finding freedom and fighting for what’s right, learned in only the way a Robin could. But Dick had also struggled under the weight of being the mentor Robin needed. Ignoring the linger resentments that there was even a second Robin and the fact that Jason never seemed to hear him was harder than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t wanted to be responsible for that not really, not when his legacy had been sna--

“Then why the hell did he send me here?” Jason’s flat voice pulled Dick from his conflicting thoughts. Jason stared at the ground, knuckles white-tight in a closed fists. Dick expected to see wounded pride in his eyes, maybe even anger, but not fear. Dick recognized that look, the uncertainty, remembered the way his mind would race to figure out what he’d done wrong, what to do next, make sure he wasn’t failing whatever seemingly inscrutable, insurmountable challenge Batman put in front of him.

The argument that Batman couldn’t trust Nightwing’s decisions seemed laughable when once again, Batman made the decision for him.

Dick grabbed the discarded bags at Jason’s feet. “Get inside. We’ll talk about it.”

He waited for Jason to compose himself, which he did quickly. His grin only flickered for a second when he met Dick’s eyes and said, “Finally. Hope you got food in there. I’m starving.”

 **:::**  


Jason slumped down in Dick’s comfy chair and let his eyes wander all the way around the room then back to Dick. It wasn’t new, hell, Dick had stopped thinking of it as creepy a long time ago. Jason wanted to know him as much as he wanted to know about him. Dick got that type of curiosity, especially since this was the first time Jason had been inside the apartment. No, the unnecessarily large part of his ego that wanted to know what Jason saw was what bothered him. He wondered if the reality equaled his expectation. He wondered why he even cared.

Dick observed Jason as he studied the apartment. His eyes never stopped moving, peering at Dick’s collection of colorful posters protected by glass frames, the criminology books stacked sideways on the top two shelves of the book case, the pile of clothes just beside his bedroom door. The bottom two shelves held a few thrillers, a self-help book, and a dog-eared copy of “Breathing for Dummies.” He knew when Jason spied that title from the stifled snort. His eyes had swung back to Dick before starting at a new wall in the apartment. He felt Jason’s eyes on him when he stood, grabbing cash from the kitchen counter, and went to get their pizza. 

Dick deposited the boxes on the coffee table. Hot, greasy oregano spiraled into the air when he pealed open the top. Their stomachs growled plaintively when the rich scent hit them. Dick laughed. Jason just asked for a plate, please.

Maybe the reality fell really short, Dick thought sheepishly when he walked back out of his kitchen with a small box instead. “About those plates….”

They ate off strips of aluminum foil while Dick’s plates marinated in the dishwasher. Their conversation was one of appreciative moans and head nods, because Paulie’s really was the best pizza in town. The silence wasn’t strained but it was pointed. The kid made everything a competition. Their interactions were only about getting one up on the other, who got the last word, who snapped first. Something as simple as who would start talking had become another method of one-upmanship. Especially if it was starting the kind of conversations neither wanted to share. He’d just resigned himself to wait it out when Jason let loose a disbelieving laugh. 

“You are ridiculous, man.”

Dick finished swirling his tongue around a long string of mozzarella a couple times and chewing it down before answering. “What?”

“You eat that thing like you’re gonna to give it your last name.” He laughed again when Dick started coughing. 

Dick wiped the flecks of tomato and cheese from his mouth with a napkin. He’d actually been caught off guard that time. “Inappropriate much?”

“You ever seen yourself eat? That’s inappropriate.” Jason nodded to himself like he was marking another point under his name.

"You want something to drink?" Dick asked heading into the kitchen. 

"Yeah. Water if you don’t have any Zesti.”

“You can’t possibly be this cool,” Jason said when Dick returned with two brown glass bottle. He took a sip, grimacing before he even swallowed. “That’s root beer.”

Point to Dick. “I know. Even better than what you thought, right?”

Jason took another sip. “Maybe,” he said, voice quiet like he used during those rare late at night when it was only two of them. “He really didn’t tell you I was coming?”

Dick hopped back onto the couch with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Jay, but I didn’t know.”

“Figures. The uh, business trip was last minute or whatever. Must’ve slipped his mind.”

“Must have,” Dick agreed although he knew nothing slipped Batman’s mind.

Jason jabbed a finger at him. “Yeah right. That was bullshit and you know it. What’s this all about, Dickface? Why am I getting pulled into your stupid fight?”

“First of all, we’re not fighting.”

Jason interrupted with a burst of laughter. “Come on, man. I heard at least half of you and Bruce laying into each other during the Christmas stuff. That definitely sounded like fighting.”

“We’re having problems seeing eye to eye on a few things,” Dick continued. “Okay, they might be major things. But we’re not fighting.”

“You’re arguing?”

“That. Yeah. Yeah we’re having an argument. A very—“

“Loud—“

“Difficult argument about fundamental things, Jay. About my life and just,” he sighed, unwilling to rehash it again. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

"When it starts affecting me, I think it does.” Jason bit into his crust. “What’s the big bad bat so wrong about?”

“Fundamental things,” Dick repeated, thinking about leadership, how justice demanded truth and what that meant to the both of them. “But mostly, Bruce is wrong about me.”

“Huh.” Jason stared at him, long and a little too direct. “The thing is, I don’t think he’s wrong about you.”

“What?” Dick nearly shot to his feet before Jason could finish his juvenile and obviously biased opinion. It hurt. Jesus, why did that hurt? “Jason, look. This is really none of your business.”

“Two days ago, Bruce told me you were an excellent partner and he learned as much from you as you did from him. He said you were a natural leader. He said that you’re, and I quote, ‘a testament to the power of will and humanity.’ He said you inspired so many heroes over the years and they look for you for guidance. Even old dudes. He said training with you is actually a privilege and that I should actually try observing and listening to you instead of uh,” Jason pause to shake his head, a strange smile crossing his lips. “Basking in your presence because blah, blah, blah, Dick Grayson shits rainbows and jizzes ice cream for all the good girls and boys. You’re telling me he was wrong about that?”

Dick shut his mouth when the gasping fish impression went a beat too long. He really has no reply for that because those words were unexpected and opposite to the words Batman used when they last spoke. He scratched the back of his neck then his cheeks that felt a little too warm. Finding something to say was something of a struggle with Jason’s smug little grin goading him. He settled for, “What flavor?”

“Huh?”

“What flavor ice cream?”

“Oh.” Jason laughed. “Vanilla. Timeless, right?”

“Jason,” Dick said, a smile spreading across his face. The kid had him. He knew it, Dick knew it, light years away, Bruce probably knew it too. It was hard to be mad about it right now though. “Jason,” he repeated. “What are we supposed to be working on?”

“I need to work on whatever ninja carnival skills you think will get B to take me up on patrol.”

“You can’t tell me that he hasn’t taken you on patrol. He’s taken you on patrol. I’ve taken you on patrol.”

“I didn’t say that. He’s taken me _out_ , but he’s never taken me _up_.” Jason flicked his eyes up. “I said it wasn’t fair. All the shit he’s had me doing, you know? I want to hit the ziplines. But you know Batman. Just kept going on and on about training to my strengths.” He frowned at the bottle in his hands.

“So what did you say?” Dick asked, already thinking up exercises.

“I told him that it wasn’t fair. Robin loves to fly and if I’m going to be Robin, I need to learn that too.”

Dick jerked up to find Jason’s heavy stare locked on his face. “Don’t look at me like that,” said Jason. “I’m just telling you the truth.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

Jason glanced away quickly. “Well that’s probably the one and only complement you’re gonna get from me.”

“I better enjoy it then.” Dick slumped back into the cushions and kicks his feet onto the coffee table. “So you’re running away to become an acrobat.”

“No. I’m running away for some afterhours tutoring,” Jason said. “B said I should train with you if I wanted to do more than become proficient on the lines. You want to be the best, you train with the best. So I asked him about Diana and then Superman.”

Dick clutched a hand to his chest. “Ouch, man. You couldn’t let me bask in your praise for a couple seconds longer?”

“Wouldn’t want it to go to your head. I need to nail this down before the JL come back from this summit thing.”

"Okay. I can help you learn to fly,” said Dick. He was already planning out the next few days in his head. “But it’s a process. And there is something you need to pick up first.”

“What’s that?”

“How to fall.”

"How to fall, huh?” Jason said, smile fading into something small, almost wistful as he rolled the bottle between his palms. “That’ll be easy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a martial artist, gymnast, or parkour enthusiast.

One by one, the metal light fixtures flickered on filling the gymnastics studio with a fluorescent hum. The building was enormously wide, long, and tall with all three floors open to the clinging. The majority of the space was divided by springboard mat, gymnastic equipment, and running along the length of three walls, an obstacle course for parkour training. Everything seemed perfectly ordered and smelled of lemons.

“Do you own this place or something?” Jason asked.

“No. A friend of mine runs a training camp here. Doesn’t mind if I drop in on off hours.” Dick tucked the key back inside his wallet and shrugged out of his jacket. 

“This a girl friend or boy friend?” Jason asked, tossing his sweatshirt at the edge of the mat and kicking off his shoes.

Dick flicked his attention over to Jason, but he was simply letting his arms hang loosely at his side and breathing deeply. “Why do you want to know?”

Jason swept his hand around encompassing the uneven bars, beams, rings, and other training stations neatly quartering the giant room. “I’ve met some of your friends, remember? Olympic hotness could be around the corner. I need to be prepared in case we have company.” 

“A female friend,” he answered, grudgingly. “But the owner doesn’t get her until eight.”

“No one is gonna join us for pre-dawn torture? They’re missing out.”

“Just start stretching, Little Wing,” said Dick. “And if Liliana does show up early, turn that kind of charm all the way down. She’s a lady.”

Jason grinned. “She could be a gentleman and that’d be okay. Us bad boys don’t discriminate.”

Dick caught him around the neck and knuckled his hair until the dark strands curled over themselves. Jason shoved him lightly and they began their warm up. Jason bounced through all the motions, excited and urging Dick to start. It was infectious and he found himself rushing through the motions himself. They ended up at the same spot of the mat after stretching. 

“So,” said Jason. “Falling.”

“Yes,” said Dick, pausing while he went over his prepared speech. Leading the Titans and other team-ups over the years had granted him with more than enough team experience communicating concepts. He’d already spent hours with Jason honing lessons from the criminal justice system to coding a packet analyzer for gathering and sifting data. But Jason’s stare was so intense this morning that Dick felt a nervous curl slope through his belly. It wasn’t like his actions were dictated by some punk kid, but he’s starting to think that there could be a better way to do this. A way that didn’t involve boring Jason to death. Change of plans.

He cleared his throat. “How’s your jiujutsu coming along?”

Jason’s brow creased before he shifted into a ready stance. “Why don’t you find out?” 

After crossing to the opposite side of the mat, they bowed to one another. Their first two engagements ended with steadying hops before breaking apart. They slotted together for a third time shifting around to maneuver for a throw. It was easy for Dick to curl into Jason’s overly extended body and shift a leg between his inner thighs. Jason tried to pull back but it was too late. Dick simply bent forward and Jason tumbled over his hip and to the mat with a ringing slap. 

“Again.”

Jason leapt back to his feet. “You asked for it.” 

It had taken a lot of coaxing before Dick incorporated a new martial art into the burgeoning repertoire as Robin the Boy Wonder. He blamed the times, really. Who didn’t want to be the Karate Kid? Jason had progressed much faster. In the nine months since he had started training, Jason crossed aikido and muay thai from the proficiency list and began jiujutsu. Dick could see rapid improvement in his movements and tactics. It was in these small ways that he could see how Jason’s vigilante training was more thorough than his own. His felt a lot more like mentoring than the regimental style used with the new Robin. 

Their sparring cycled from quick, powerful to slow, strategic engagements. Jason gradually became more confident in his moves, flowing through Dick’s locks easily. He was sturdier now, but Dick still retained an advantage in height and reach. And he used it ruthlessly sending Jason sailing into the map throw after well-timed throw. Jason tensed at the last moment and Dick winced for him. 

"Again."

Jason stayed on the ground after this landing. “You coulda just asked how me about my breakfalls instead of pounding my ass into the mat,” he groaned. 

“You would’ve just told me you had them down and that’s not true. I’m hoping you can tell when you start to tense up.”

“Maybe I’m just preparing to hit the ground.”

“You know better than that, Jay,” he said, because Jason did know better. “Unlearn your fear by trusting your body."

Jason snorted. "Who died and made you Yoda?”

“Hey, I knew you were smart enough to grasp the concept, but if you’re not physically ready to do this, let me know,” Dick said, deliberately turning away. “We can call it a day if you need to.”

This time, Jason staggered to his feet. He rubbed his chin over his shoulder glaring at Dick with hot eyes. "Again?"

Dick shifted into his own stance with a grin. “Let’s go.”

The second after their bow ended Jason barreled into him. His hand shifted across Dick’s shoulders and chest, searching for a hold. They collapsed in a pile of sweaty limbs and sharp elbows rolling to keep from being pinned. Jason squirmed across him, locking a foot around his knee. It would have been easy for Dick to shift his legs up and send Jason sailing over his shoulders but he didn’t. He was tired too and the kid deserved a victory after this session. He regretted that decision seconds later when Jason’s hard head smacked against his jaw sending his own snapping back. He gasped, blinking wet stars from his eyes. When he could see clearly, Jason’s face swam into view, flushed and worried and staring down at him. His fingertips were soft against Dick’s chin. 

“Dick. Man, I am. I’m sorry. Christ. Are you alright? Are you bleeding? I’m checking if you’re bleeding, okay?” He gently pushed at Dick’s lips until he could check his teeth and tongue.

Dick wanted to reassure him but even the thought of moving his mouth further hurt.

“I’m going to get you some ice, okay. Don’t. Just don’t move.” Jason gripped his shoulder tightly. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Dick was still on his back five minutes later trying to snatch the icepack from Jason’s hands. He alternated the freezing cloth between Dick’s chin and the back of his head without prompting. He looked so guilty and angry right now. It wasn’t right. Dick slowly worked his jaw before testing a crooked smile. It hurt but watching some of the concern fade from his expression was worth it. 

“I’m okay,” he said, carefully.

"Nothing broken?"

“Don’t think so. Jay, truly, I’m okay.”

"This bruise coming up says differently.” Jason fanned his fingers over the skin, his touch gentle. “I hurt Dick Grayson’s pretty face. Your fan club is going to kill me.”

“’Dick Grayson’s Pretty Face’ was the title of last month’s newsletter,” said Dick. “You must be a member.”

“That means I’m first in line to go after myself then.” Jason dropped his hand. “Seriously though, man. I’m sorry.”

"Stop saying that. Accidents happen.”

“They shouldn’t though. We don’t have time for accidents.” Jason’s fist tightened. “We shouldn’t have accidents. Not when people out there need us.”

“Jason. Jay, no.” Dick grabbed his wrist. “People might need us, but we need to be at our best. That’s what the training is for. To learn so each movement and reaction is reflexive, as familiar as breathing, no matter the situation. And yes, accidents will happen. But accidents just show us where our weaknesses reside so we can do better the next time. This is no different than the last time I took you down in the cave and you sprained your wrist." He gave Jason's arm a little shake. "Accidents happen. We just have to be prepared to deal with them.”

Jason shook his hand away. “What if it’d been worse? Or if it happens again.”

“It wasn’t and our sparring will only get better because you’ll be more focused. My guard will definitely be up,” said Dick. “And let’s be honest, it won’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?” Jason asked, eyes narrowing. “You think you were going easy on me?”

Dick shrugged, a “you said it not me,” gesture that made Jason growl.

"You sure you're feeling better?"

“Yeah.” Dick eased upright. Nothing hurt aside from a brief flare behind his eyes. “Why?” he added, suspiciously. 

“Because. I was going easy on _you_ ,” Jason said, jabbing Dick’s chest and sides with stiff fingers. 

“Ow.” Dick rolled to the side with a groan. “You and your bonehead have me at a disadvantage.”

"Long as you know who's on top.” He hopped up and bowed to Dick. “You ready to go, old man, or are you just gonna milk it for another ten minutes?”

Dick stared at him, mouth open as a memory curled in front of his eyes. It had been a similar situation, an accident, the first time he’d beaten Bruce. No amount of worry could hide the pride he’d felt in that moment. And warring with Jason’s embarrassment and guilt was that same sense of pride. There’s no telling what the future would bring, but Dick knew that he wanted be there and see the kind of man Jason grew into. At the same time, “I have no idea what to do with you,” he said with a wry grin. 

“Train me.”

“I am training you.”

"Yeah? Well do it faster, Dickiebird. I want to fly.”

**:::**

They settle into a rhythm Dick can almost call comfortable. Training started in the early morning and ended just before the sun crested the horizon. Dick’s shift didn’t start until midday, giving them plenty of time to return to the apartment, shower, and eat a quick breakfast. Well, Dick ate a bowl of cereal and Jason jogged a half mile north to the nearest diner “because the food is hot and it doesn’t smell like your feet.” Alfred would pick him up shortly thereafter, driving the freshly showered young Robin to class while Dick fell into bed for a well-deserved nap. 

Today’s training focused on the gym’s parkour course. The course was brutally effective in training the mind and body to prepare and react, but it was also fun. Jason followed Dick through increasingly complex drills of vaults, flips, wall climbing, and of course, landings. His storm-cloud eyes studied Dick’s every move understanding that they never approached the same wall or jump twice. If Jason couldn’t reproduce his movements exactly—“a double somersault into a. Was that a triple lutz? What the hell, Dick?”—he managed with solid techniques. Dick could practically see Jason racing beside him across the rooftops already.

Dick reached the end of the advanced course barely resisting the urge to face the imagined crowd who definitely cheered that impressive showing. Instead, he dropped to the edge of the platform, letting his feet bounce on the wooden casings while his young protégé approached the next drill. 

Jason rubbed his hands together then took off in a loping jog, feet stuttering twice before he launched into a tight flip. This section of the course climbed and so did Jason, palms flat and legs extended to vault over the progressively higher walls leading to the level. His upper body strained as he swung his body out from the extension bars, legs long then tucking tight against his chest so his feet could fit against the bar. The swing’s momentum sent him sailing upright until he balanced atop the bar. He grinned to himself before skipping across the top of all six with precise movements. The next level had Jason standing at the edge of the slalom, a wooden halfpike that started at a twelve foot drop and ended with a twenty foot incline. Rather than leaping the gap like Dick, Jason began sliding down the wall. He pushed off halfway down, hitting the ground lightly and immediately bouncing into a somersault that propelled him up the wall foot wall. His sneakers squeaked as he scrambled up and up to the other side. 

Dick gave a hard clap when Jason sprang up beside him. “Good. And faster too. Think you’re ready to try a drop from up here?”

Jason walked the narrow ledge in carefully tight circles to catch his breath. “It’s only what we’ve been working toward,” he said between heaving breathes. “So yeah. I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Let’s go over the principles one more time while you catch your breath.” 

Jason’s eyes rolled excessively, but Dick didn’t mind, not when he could see the tension drain from his shoulders. 

Falling was easy. Landing was the tricky part. It was a lesson Dick learned at a very young age. Telling someone the proper way to approach gravity—with respect and without fear—was something he could dedicate his life to doing. Dick mashed physics, anatomy, and personal experience into a speech so brief, Jason had only yawned twice. 

“And that’s it. It’s the same as when we practiced on the vault only from a greater height.”

“Yeah.”

"You just did it a second ago, too. So I know you’ve got it down.”

“Okay.”

"You’re sure you’re good? I’m going down first to demonstrate.”

“This is not a new concept, Dickbreath, but okay,” he scoffed. “Show me how it’s done. Again.”

“I’m gonna go. Just make sure you pay attention to what’s going on here and here,” Dick placed both hands on Jason’s shoulders. “And here,” he gave a gentle pat to Jason’s belly and felt that tension return. He frowned. “Relax that core. It’ll hurt if you tense up.”

Jason took a step back then slapped at Dick’s hands for good measure. “Go do your center stage shit. Show me how it’s done so I can get on with it.”

"Maybe you should repeat the exercise back to me,” Dick says, hesitating at Jason’s impatience.

“Dick, man, look. R is for remembrance, isn’t it?” Jason pokes a thumb into his chest right over where the Robin symbol would be. “Trust me. I got it.”

Dick’s lashes flutter at the bittersweet sensation tugging at his heart. “Yeah, it is in a way,” he says quietly. “But it’s not one of the Rs.”

“Maybe we should add it to the list. But I remember what you tell me.” He puffs his chest out. “I’m ready.”

"Alright. You say you’re ready, you’re ready.” Dick stepped to the platform’s edge. “Keep your eyes on me."

Jason muttered something behind him, but Dick was dialed in, heels together, arms extended. He pushed into the air. It was glorious. Dick couldn’t get enough of the seconds of weightless freefall as he spun down to the ground. His clothes fluttered in the rush of air, pulled his hair up, coaxed an open smile to his face. All too soon it was over.

Dick rolled twice across the mat that whooshed quietly beneath him. 

“Whoo, what a rush!” he crowed, spreading out like a starfish to breathe in the charged air. He opened his eyes, knowing Jason would be staring down at him. And he was right. Jason knelt at the platform’s edge peering down at him. He looked much smaller silhouetted by the glowing lights. 

Dick climbed off the mat signaling that it was clear. Jason threw a hand up in reply. He was ready. 

Above, Jason bounced on the balls of his feet a couple times before putting his back to the mat. It almost looked like he was about to dive the way Jason paused at the edge of the platform, arms spread back. Then he took a step back into thin air and fell. Dick watched with open eyes. It was exquisite, like seeing his first show from the wings and that remembered feeling of wanting to know exactly how each of the acts felt when they were under the lights and doing what seemed so right, so natural, so loved. Jason’s body carried those same exact attributes as he folded into a slow flip—natural, conquering a new element. And his landing was nearly perfect. There was a moment of silence before Dick burst into applause.

"Not bad, Robin,” he said, clapping grandly. “Not bad at all.”

“That was awesome,” Jason said, voice hushed. He lay there breathing then pushed himself up slowly turning to look at Dick. His face was flushed with exhilaration; his blue eyes burned with delight. “You were watching me.”

“Yes,” Dick said, slowly. “You looked good. Real good.”

Jason smoothed his hair back from his forehead and tilted his chin in Dick’s direction emphasizing the sharp lines of his cheeks and his tight, bright smile. It was a good look for him, Dick realized suddenly, handsome and confident. “Keep watching me, Dickiebird. I’m going to surprise you someday.” 

It sounded like a promise and something inside Dick urged him to accept it. He held a hand out to Jason who clasped it tight. He pulled Jason across the mat until he hopped down to his feet. Jason rocked forward glancing at Dick, mouth pursed as if there was something that he wanted to say. His excitement was warm and contagious, like a gentle tug on the threads woven around them and this moment.

"Alright." Dick tilted his head down, instinct driving him closer. “I look forward to it,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Jason’s lids became heavy as if he were longing for sleep. The color deepening from the watery blue to something deep, a color Dick had never seen before. A part of him wanted to move even closer, fascinated at the change, but Jason’s lashes began to flutter as if he were just now waking. “Yeah. Wow. Yeah.” He stepped back, blushing, and the warm bubble that had settled around them broke

Dick swallowed feeling strangely parched. “You okay?”

“Sorry, man. I just.” Jason flushed, curling a hand around the back of his neck. “That was. That was just awesome.”

“Yeah. It really was.” Dick shook off the unfinished feeling with a smile. “Honestly, Jay, you’re kind of surprising me right now,” said Dick. “You take to this so easily. It’s not just your other training. You’re just doing that good.” 

It was like watching electricity coil through a bulb the way Jason lit back up. “Then take me up sometime soon. I don’t just wanna go on patrol, you know. I want to fly with you.” 

“You might have mentioned that a couple times,” Dick said, nudging their shoulders together.

Jason rolled his eyes, a sheepish grin spreading over his lips. “Just want to make sure you don’t forget it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and your kudos!

Dick tossed the grapple gun to Jason the moment he slammed through the door. 

“What’s this?” Jason slung his bags to the floor and hopped over the back of the couch. He eyed Dick with suspicion, awe, and joy all at once.

“Exactly what it looks like. You feel like going up with me tonight?” 

Jason traced his hands over metal lines and soft grip. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Yes!”

They rode the Nightcycle to Bludhaven’s west side where the skyline grew into the higher reaches of midtown where the post-war skyscrapers and condos cast long shadows across the narrow city streets. The pop of the Jason’s grappling gun and wild laughter as he shot up, cape trailing in the wind, was a moment Dick would never forget. His enthusiasm was contagious, not that Dick needs an excuse to enjoy the rush as he sailed through the air. But he did indulge in the playful sparing as Nightwing and Robin raced across the rooftops between Central Bank and the First Episcopalian church and maybe showed off a little bit. 

Dick perched on the balustrade of a corner building at the corner of 7th Avenue and Bridge, where the city’s old paper district began. Now it was the cross-section of boutique business and upscale housing. He tilted his head searching for the sound that first caught his attention. The tinkle of broken glass sounded near the north.

“Want to check on that?” He points to the source.

“On it!” Jason calls, already shooting through the air.

The night patrol was easy. They manage to foil two break-ins and lend support during an active shooter call. BPD’s radio chatter led them to a suspicious fire at the edge of the diamond district. With the fire department already on the scene, Dick decided to search around the fire's perimeter. They found a team of masked figures lurking in the shadows of a high-rise under construction on the second sweep. Somehow, in the chase up and down the 40-story building, between the drawled quips and the thrown punches, Dick looked up and saw a grapple line sailing gently to the ground with Jason falling after.

For a split second, he felt the heat of the spotlights sweeping over him, heard the horrified screams below. He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to see, but felt drawn to the end of the board. Found himself looking down, down. The next breath, he was back in the shadows of the unfinished skyscraper watching Jason’s cape trail behind him uselessly.

Dick launched into the night sky. The cold whistled in his ear as he dropped ten feet, twenty feet, eyes locked on Jason hurtling through the open space. He could make it. He must make it. He extended his grapple and fired. After hearing the tight, metallic cling, Dick retracted the line shooting forward. The distance between them closed with Dick counting down the feet and inches until his fingertips brushed the slick suit.

“Robin,” he shouted, relieved when they connected. But Jason didn’t respond, didn’t grunt as Dick’s arm tightened around his chest. He couldn’t think about it. He could only move. Feet skipping up an adjoining crossbeam, Dick paused in a crouch before leaping backwards. Both he and his charge dropped heavily. The grapple line whipped over the steel beam creating the tension needed to slow their descent. All Dick could hear was Bruce’s unflinching voice running through his head. It’s not about trusting them to know their limits. It’s trusting yourself enough to understand when they can’t.

They couldn’t get to the ground fast enough. Dick hit the floor and rolled them behind cover. Distantly, he heard sirens sounding and the boots echoing through the bottom floors. It didn’t matter. Jason’s pulse shuddered beneath his fingertips, steady if faint. That’s all he needed to know.

Dick pressed his head to Jason’s chest choking back scream that had been locked away in his throat. He took another breath, then another until the shaking stopped. “Jesus, kid,” he sighed, unfolding then stopped.

A set of footsteps scraped the unfinished concrete floors. Nightwing still had some unfinished business.

Brutale slipped into the light. “That’s one birdy down, but what’s this? Tears for the fallen? You should be more worried about yourself.”

“You should have left when you had the chance.” Dick snarled, escrima sticks extending with a snap of his wrist.

Brutale’s tongue flicked out of the twisted mask he wore and trailed along the knife’s blade. Its twin glittered high in a wall high above them marking where Robin’s grapple line was cut. “Come closer, hermano. It’s time I clipped _your_ wings.”

It was too quick, too brutal to be considered a fight. He had to get to back to Jason. Dick spun in tightening circles, deflecting the blades thrown at him and parrying the slashing knives. Catching the next knife flung, Dick crossed forward. He ducked a horizontal swing and slide Brutale’s guard slicing through the tendons in his wrist. Two strikes disarmed him. Several more focused strikes send Brutale to his knees. Dick brought both hands together and swung down, crushing the villainous hitman to the ground. He stood over the prone body, panting, white-knuckled and unsatisfied.

Zip-stripping the bastard was the hardest things he’d done in a while. Dick secured him inside the elevator and sent it the ground floor.

Jason was propped against the pylons when he returned. Relief poured over Dick like a tidal wave, heavy and overwhelming. He sank to his knees and supported Jason as he regained equilibrium.

Jason licked his dry lips. “You get ‘im, Nightwing?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” His hands wavered over Jason’s body now. He settled for soothing the dark-head. “He’s. BPD should have him in custody any second now.”

“Got a good one in for me?”

“You know I did.” Brutale would curse Nightwing through rehab. He didn’t feel all that bad about it.

“Good.” Jason finally opened his eyes. “Can I stand, yet?”

“Let’s see.” Dick checked him over a second time. A few bruises, a scrape along his jaw, but no swelling. Vision seemed good. He clicked the pin light off. “I think you’re going to be okay. You know what happened up there?”

Jason rolled his head until he could look Dick straight on. “Yeah,” he said, gruffly.

“You want to fill me in?”

“I think I. I think I passed out.” Jason growled. “Like a… a real candy-ass. Like I had no clue.”

“Okay,” said Dick. It was a struggle to keep his heart from racing all over again

Jason glared at him from under his ragged bangs. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Yes. For now.” He watched the tension ease from Jason’s shoulders.

"This is going be one of those teachable moment things, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Dick admitted. 

“Well then. I think I’m good, Dickiebird. We should be leaving already.” Jason said. He pushed his back into the pylons and began sliding up until he could stand.

“You mind?” Dick asked, offering his help.

Jason looked down at his hand. “I guess it’s alright.”

Dick wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Jason slumped against his side with a sigh. It was the only reassurance he was going to get from the kid, but it was enough.

“Not bad for my first night up, right? I mean, I made it.”

The idea startled laughter from Dick. He pressed his mouth against the back of his hand when it threatened to turn into a sob. “Yeah. Yeah, you made it.”

“So, uh. You gonna yell at me now or later?”

“Definitely later, Robin. But I do have a little advice.”

“What’s that?”

“Next time, wear a helmet.”

Jason laughed weakly. “Might be the best piece of advice you ever gave anyone. Ever.”

**:::**

Dick pushed himself from one task to the next the instant they swept into Dick’s apartment. Rinse out the shower. Put water on for hot cocoa. Sneak a pair of fresh clothes onto the bathroom counter. Pick through his bottles of painkillers and find something appropriately dosed for a kid who went freefalling for ten stories, unconscious, so still in Dick’s arms when they landed, and. Dick pounded his fist on the counter. He had to keep moving. He would be organizing take-out menus if Jason hadn’t wandered in from the bathroom towel around his bare shoulders and a phone in his hand.

“Alfred wants to talk to you,” he tossed the phone then sank into the couch with a groan.

Dick popped the phone up with the palm of his hand and caught it on the rebound. “Hey, Alfred.”

"Master Dick. I understand there was an incident this evening?"

It was a short conversation. Alfred’s careworn voice carried Dick through the near-disastrous night. His questions were patient, unassuming, and the calm interjections were a little too soothing. Dick found himself settling beside Jason on the couch as the conversation came to a close. Jason was picking at the drawstring of his pants, twining them around two fingers then twisting them around the other way. It cause Dick to realize his own fingers were drumming on the couch’s arm.

“Should I alert Master Bruce?” Alfred asked.

Dick smiled humorously. “Already ahead of you, but it won’t hurt if you send a message too.”

“I would expect nothing less with the young master in your care,” said Alfred. “The car will be at your apartment in the afternoon. One o’clock?”

“Sounds good, Alfred.”

"Good night, Master Dick.”

He said his goodbyes with Jason chiming in before they disconnected.

“You called Alfred,” Dick said, flatly.

“Yeah. It’s. Just figured I should let him know.”

Dick nodded. “It was the right decision. He wants you to see Dr. Thompkins.”

“Don’t think that’s really necessary. I’m fine.”

"But you'll do it without him insisting? Because I should have taken you there right away.”

“Maybe. I don’t like it when he worries but I’m fine, okay? How many times do I have to tell you that.” Jason’s fingers curled into his sweatpants. “I don’t like it when you worry about me either. I get you’re responsible and everything, but I really wish you’d stop looking at me like I’m some kid.”

“Jason. Jason, you are some kid. You’re some kid I know,” he said. “And you can’t ask me to stop. If I stop. If I had stopped, you could’ve.” He’d stayed still for too long and the night came back to him in a rush. Dick pressed his forehead into the heels of his palms until it hurt. The pain couldn’t extinguish the idea of Jason’s body lying on the ground like. He choked back a sob. Another. He wanted to keep moving but Jason leaned against him and ran a hesitant hand over shoulder. His touch was light, but Dick felt like a hot brand tethering him down.

“You uh. You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m,” he struggled with the words. “I’m fine, Jason.”

“You kind of sound like shit."

“It was kind of a shit night,” he said.

“Yeah. Yeah.” There was something unassailable about that statement, so truthful that Jason could only agree. Jason shifted beside him. “So what part of the six R’s of Robin are we on now? Rest?”

“God,” Dick drew in a shivery breath. He recognized that particular trick. It should be the other way around, really. It should be Dick serving up comfort, bring the mood to something manageable, light. That’s what Robin did. But he wasn’t anymore, not really. 

“I think we’re up to 10 R’s now. I’m adding recklessness and restraint. Think we could both use it. And maybe respite.”

“What is this? The SATs? Now I know you’re just picking random words from your old vocabulary tests.”

Dick snorted, eyes squeezing tight and that was enough to send two hot tears sliding down his cheeks. He balled a hand into a fist trying to hold them back but more tears chase after the others. “How. How did you even. Jason.”

"Damn it,” Jason hissed. The words curled over Dick’s jaw, warm, raw, alive. “Don’t,” Jason breathed.

“I. I kind of have to. Jay. Jason." He grabbed Jason’s hand and let them fall. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said almost as soon as Dick has the words out. “And don’t do that.” Jason’s thumb traced over his cheek to the corner of Dick’s eyes clearing the damp skin of tears. “I don’t want you to do that for me,” he murmured.

Dick shivered. “Do what?”

“Cry for me. I just,” he shrugged. “I don’t need it from anyone. Don’t want it from you, okay?”

“I’m not,” Dick said. He wiped at his eyes, sucked it back in. “Just the stress and.” He tried for a grin. “Pain because that joke? Terrible.”

“Yeah. I know.” Jason’s hand fell to back his shoulder. “I’m gonna hug you now. That okay?”

Dick gave a watery chuckle. “You either hit that head harder than we thought or I’m really cracking up.”

“I just." Jason looked straight into his eyes. "I think we kind of need it.”

Dick dropped his gaze wanting to pretend he didn’t understand. But he did. He needed it too. “Okay. That might be a good idea.”

Jason wrapped his arms around Dick curling until they fit together with their chins over the other’s shoulders. Dick felt tired, drained as if he'd swam through churning waters, and maybe a part of him did, cutting through the past and the night sky to reach Jason. To hold him and keep him safe from harm. Relief kept rolling through him followed by a sick anxiety and guilt with Jason so calm beside him, holding Dick when he needed it. But maybe that was okay. Maybe they both kind of needed it.

He listened to Jason breathe for the longest time. The warm puffs traveled along his jaw and the shell of his ear, steady and sure. "I'm glad you're okay, Little Wing.”

Jason was quiet for the longest time. When he spoke again, his voice was low, shaken, and Dick spread his fingers along Jason’s back and pulled him in tighter. “I wanted to be scared. Jesus, Dick, I shoulda been so fucking scared, but I wasn’t. You know why?”

“Tell me.”

“Because I knew if Batman wasn’t there, you’d get me. You always come through, Nightwing. You always come though. I’m here because of it.”

“Jay,” Dick said, helplessly because all he had known was fear in that moment. That he would be too late, that Jason would slip through his fingers.

But he was here now and it was the only thing that mattered.


End file.
